


The Strength of Men

by Savageseraph



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Betrayal, Choices, Community: sons_of_gondor, Elves, Endings, Established Relationship, Leadership, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-02
Updated: 2007-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can still reconsider."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strength of Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArtemisBlack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisBlack/gifts).



> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/profile)[**sons_of_gondor**](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/) Halloween Trick Or Treat Fic/Art Exchange, for [](http://artemisblack666.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://artemisblack666.livejournal.com/)**artemisblack666**, who asked for darkfic about any of the old kings or Stewards of Gondor before Denethor.

"You can still reconsider."

The soft entreaty made Isildur look up from his wine. Elrond's tone hinted at intimacies shared, at hopes and fears bared along with skin between them, and Isildur shivered, unable to deny the power of those words. "I could..."

"There is still time, Isildur." Elrond nodded, his expression softening as he smiled, ran soothing fingers through Isildur's hair. "Still hope that our victory can be complete. If you destroy the Ring."

Isildur's eyes, which had started to drift closed at Elrond's touch, snapped open. Destroy it? The Ring felt heavy as a stone around his neck. Destroy what his father had died to acquire? Destroy the one fair thing that survived the Enemy's fall?

"Complete?" Isildur jerked back from Elrond's touch, fingers curling white-knuckled around the arms of his chair to keep from either striking the Elf or closing protectively around the Ring. He pointed out at the battlefield still choked with the bodies of the dead. "Would you tell them after they bled, after they watched their brothers die, after they saw the Enemy destroyed and His armies brought low that they have failed? Would you?"

What he did not say was _Would you tell **me** that?_ It sounded too needy, a naked plea for comfort and reassurance. It sounded...unkingly. "Perhaps victory means one thing to Elves and another to Men."

"It means defeating the Shadow, not just in this Age, but for all Ages." Elrond's eyes widened, just a little, his gaze coming to rest on Isildur's chest.

Isildur did not realize he was touching the Ring until Elrond's gaze fixed on it. The gold was so smooth, so warm, against his skin. "I defeated the Enemy." He tapped the Ring, before his fingers reluctantly released it. "This is recompense for Gondor's losses."

"It cannot bring your father back to you. It cannot restore your kingdom or my king." Elrond started to reach for Isildur, fingers pausing before they could brush his cheek. "Would you draw your blade against me?"

"Draw...?" Isildur looked down, paled as he saw his fingers curled around the hilt of the Elven dagger Elrond had gifted to him. "What?"

"The Ring clouds your mind. It is tainted, Isildur." This time his fingers did touch Isildur's cheek, run lightly along his jaw. "The Enemy's shadow fills it, and it will fill you if you keep it."

Isildur knocked Elrond's hand away and upset a small table as he stood to face the Elf. "The Enemy is dead." He drew a deep breath, searched for calm. Sauron was dead. He killed him, killed him and took the Ring. It belonged to him and to his house now. "This conversation is over. We will not speak of it again."

Elrond nodded. "We will not." His gaze was cold, guarded. It was the sort of look a person gave a disreputable cur, not a lover. "I am glad your father was not here to see this, to see the strength of his line, the strength of Men, fail."

Before Isildur could respond, Elrond left the tent. He walked away toward the Elven host and never once looked back.

Isildur trembled with dark anger and wounded pride. The Elf had no right saying such things to him. No right at all. He had done nothing wrong. Wanting to bring one bright thing, one precious thing out of the dark of Mordor wasn't wrong. It was noble. _Noble._ He was noble, and if the Elf could not see that, there were other eager lovers who would.


End file.
